


the sun isn't up yet, but i'm already missing you.

by grandstander



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, ah yes here i am with another age old crackship fic, drug mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 00:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3467957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grandstander/pseuds/grandstander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo never deletes the messages Bazz-B leaves him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sun isn't up yet, but i'm already missing you.

**Author's Note:**

> i am sorry..... bazzichi is my love............

His voice is drawn out, slower than usual and there’s a heavier tone to it, and it’s the same voice filtering through the speaker. It’s rather hard to make out, his voice dying out and subjects varying as words roll off his tongue without so much as a single care, and at some point (Ichigo’s not sure when), but he’d stopped listening to the words and only the sole sound of Bazz-B’s voice. These sort of calls had become a routine of sorts, anyway. An unexpected routine, but the closest of one they had in any form. 

Words continue to slip through the speaker and they’re almost sweeter, in a way (perhaps it’s just Ichigo’s imagination, though, but the way his name passes through the speaker makes his body feel weightless and as still as stone). There’s a lot of the same kinds of messages, of course, because that’s usually what Bazz-B does when he’s high and alone, something that happened from time to time. Despite that, though, despite the many times his name pours through in a hazy buss, he doesn’t ever respond to them— only listens. 

He never returns these calls (these are the only times Bazz-B calls him). 

Still, he keeps the phone pressed to his cheek, a sigh passing through his lips as he pulls it away for a fleeting second, bright glaringly white numbers showing 3:28. The corners of his lips fall for a moment, brow raising as a heavy breath swells in his chest, and for once, he debates on responding to the eight missed calls and three voicemails. It’s only a vague thought that crosses his mind, but he decided against it, and goes on to the last message. He presses it back against his cheek, head falling against his pillow as a drawn voice passes through once more, speaking to him softly, almost endearingly. 

His voice is more muddled now, this call later than the others he’d just listened to, and he can tell that drowsiness had begun to take hold. He mutters something Ichigo can’t quite make out, but he favors the thought of at least being able to hear Bazz-B’s voice, so he lets himself fall against the pillows, an exhale passing in unison with the breath the other takes over the message. Rugged voice comes through again, this time with just the younger’s name on his lips, then another pause. Ichigo can hear the beginnings of incoherent words, then some sort of rambles about how he just wanted Ichigo there, asked him to come back, and the voice fades out.

Those messages often end like that, he’s come to learn. Ichigo doesn’t care about that, anymore, and he’s stopped getting annoyed with them. They’re just part of the barely-existent pieces of some sort of routine that surfaces every now and again. Instead, he listens to them, each one, and they always come in the early dark hours of the morning (when neither of them can sleep), and he lets them carry ease to his mind. Bazz-B’s voice is always rather calming in them, speaking to him when it was just their two heartbeats that mattered, which was rare in itself. He doesn’t complain about them anymore, he doesn’t ask Bazz-B, he just let’s it be.

Ichigo never deletes the messages Bazz-B leaves him.


End file.
